


Dismantle the Sun

by Jayj456



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic Description, Homophobia, M/M, Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Racism, Rape Recovery, References to Drugs, Time Skips, Underage Drinking, Underage Kissing, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayj456/pseuds/Jayj456
Summary: There is raw passion, a bit of mania, the man rutting against him, panting and grunting before finally releasing a shuddering whisper that will forever taint him: mine.Daryl feels his stomach tighten as he braces himself for impact.“A few of us were there that night, we heard what he was offering. Negan said he was willing to forget this whole thing, let us all live peacefully if he got Daryl back—if he gets his husband back!”





	1. Right in Two

_~^~_

_Dismantle the Sun_

~^~

They met a long time ago.

Daryl doesn’t exactly remember when. Nonetheless, he’s sure it had to be sometime between this hell and the next.

Not before he was consumed by hellfire though. No, it had to be when his father was using his body as an ashtray or when he would linger at the edge of the woods for weeks on end, slowly starving until his father beckoned him inside.

Perhaps they drifted into the same hemisphere when the welts on his arms and legs became visible, like an honorary crest of the Dixon legacy. He remembers _then_ vividly, the hopelessness, the constant yearning for Merle to finally come home. Then at last the growing despair when he realized his older brother had abandoned him.

He’s new in town, they said. Becoming a household name, feared, respected, not quite loved, but not hated yet either. Will Dixon became acquainted with him quickly, like snakes they coiled in the same den.

The name was _off_ , some strange bastardized combination of Keegan and Nicholas.   

In Gainesville Georgia, the drug business was slow at best and absolutely dry at worst. Daryl knew well enough not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but Will made a point to be surrounded by the most vile criminals and drug dealers.

It was only a matter of time before they crossed paths.

Daryl doesn’t remember how or when, but he does remember that it happened _suddenly_. Their trailer was a piece of shit, most of it falling apart, mould on the walls and under the floorboards, the strong stench of liquor and cigarettes that seemed to match the decay surrounding them.

Will loved his parties.

They habitually consist of a drunken barrage of unemployed men congregating to inject poison inside their veins. Sometimes a few prostitutes would join them but, oftentimes it was just the men from around town. Most of them he knew but swiftly there was someone _new._

A lone figure he didn’t recognize.

Negan hung off in the corner, cigar between his lips, Cheshire grin that seems like it would survive a Typhoon. Daryl remembers _that_ , how the air had chilled and the atmosphere remained bleak, yet the man continued to smile, like some plastic statue.

Not long after he noticed everything about Negan seemed _unnatural_ —his charisma, unrelenting charm, never-ending charity and of course his affiliation for carnage.

Word around town is that he lost his wife Lucille to cancer some years ago and it really messed up him.

He recalls the looks, Negan’s copper eyes sinister and haunting, devouring his every footstep. They never spoke directly to each other, but Daryl could feel him, the way his gaze would linger, violating him.

Maybe he liked it, maybe he hated it.

Daryl wasn’t so good with the specifics. All he knew is that it unsettled him immensely and he had no way of escaping it. Then one humid night, when the air is thick like cotton and he could scarcely breathe even with all the windows open and the fan on, he hears his bedroom door open.

The house is raging, another one of Will Dixon’s memorable parties. People from all over town where visiting to celebrate, whatever kind of drug breakthrough his father had been working on.

Daryl honestly didn’t give a fuck, but he couldn't sleep and if he is late again for school tomorrow his teacher said he would be expelled.

Not that it mattered much anyway, he already flunked grade 8 and 9. Plus it’s not like he needs an education for selling moonshine and doing part-time B&Es. A small part of him wants to pass though; he wants to at least get his grade 12 that way he wouldn’t be stuck in this one-horse town.

By three am though he knew he wasn’t going to sleep. Rednecks were clambering and hollering as their voices carried on the sweet southern drawl of Neil Young _Southern Man_ as the music kept blaring through the speakers.  

The comforter he has is worn threadbare and it itches something fierce, along with the insistent mosquitoes and bedbugs. Daryl finds himself restless, tossing and turning, far too uncomfortable with the heat to find any relief.

Light momentarily floods his room as the door creaks open, footsteps that are heavy and brutish land on the carpet floor near his bed. Daryl doesn’t dare look up, because most of the time it's some of his father’s friends stumbling drunkenly into his room by accident.

He waits for the inevitable slurs and sputtering apologies. Instead the door slams shut, the footsteps gaining strength and looming shadow coming close. Daryl jerks upright, staring up at the person who is now standing beside his bed.

Negan leers above, all rabbit teeth, smelling strongly like booze and cigars.

Everything happens so fast, one minute Negan is standing there and the next he is flipping Daryl onto his stomach, shoving him hard into the mattress. He yelps loudly and screams, thrashing as hard as he can until a large hand clamps down on his mouth. Then his boxer shorts are being torn off, callous hands gripping and digging like claws into his flesh, until he is forced to submit.

There is a sudden intrusion, it _burns_ like hellfire and stings so badly he’s crying his eyes out.

Breathless pants, grunts, the bed frame hitting against the wall violently. More soundless cries and useless pleads and then Negan grabbing his chin forcing his tongue between his lips, the beard bristling against his virgin skin.

An explosion perhaps, spangled rays of fireworks.

Daryl never did make it to school the next day.

^

They could have had something.

Not now, never now but maybe _before,_  he thinks snidely. There might have been a time when Rick Grimes would have looked at him, those crystalline eyes shimmering and beseeching, yearning for something more.

Daryl is resigning to the fact that it will never happen.

Even now as they clutch each other desperately, Rick’s hand fisting his hair as he breathes heavily into his neck. The word _brother_ whispers between them and Daryl feels his heart ache in a way that is not at all brotherly. Nevertheless, he holds Rick in his arms, subtly memorizing the hard planes, defining muscles and a voice so deep that it makes him shiver all over again.

“How’d you escape?” Rick asks, his eyes tearful. “I thought...the Saviour's had the place on lock-down....”

Daryl ducks his head, eyes flickering over to Paul who stands nonchalantly off to the side.  

“Turns out, there is a God,” He mumbles.

“You’re here...that’s all that matters....” Rick concludes. “Did he....are you alright?”

That’s a loaded question, one he doesn’t feel like answering right at this moment.

“’M fine,” Daryl grumbles in his usual way, shoving the question off.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” Rick presses. “Why didn’t ya say anythin’ to begin with? We would have helped you or at least got you some protection—”

“ _Stop_.”

Daryl seethes, barking the word so loudly it causes several bystanders to stare. This isn’t the time or the place for this. Besides all of that he isn’t ready to have this conversation with Rick, to lay open bear all of his demons that are trying to claw their way free.

“Okay....” Rick responds softly. “I’m sorry....it’s just....so good to see you.”

Their eyes lock and Daryl is once again swept away by the sincerity of those words. It strikes him quite unexpectedly that he actually fucking _loves_ Rick. Despite all of his past grievances and crushing despair his heart has opened.

Daryl darts his eyes away, unwilling to let the moment continue on. They are after all preparing for war, up against the most brutal and sadistic human being alive. Now isn’t the time to be brimming with adoration and inaccessible whimsical desires. They all have jobs to do. Daryl nods slowly, allows Rick to pat him on the back.

The ache of regret fills his core, he knows he has to live with the knowledge of what _is_ and what will never be. Rick steps away and Michonne gravitates towards his side.

Yes, they could have had something.

^

This _thing_ with Negan carries on for months.

And despite his company being completely unwanted Negan is around more frequently. He brings gifts, mostly drugs and booze for his Dad and little trinkets for Daryl. They are small things, a switchblade, new fishing gear, some cards he had lying around his house.

They still don’t talk much. Daryl doesn't even look at him unless he has to. Most days they mainly just sit in the living room while Will rambles insistently to Negan about _getting in_ on some of the drug deals.

The bastard hardly utters a word, he smokes and smiles, nodding occasionally but his eyes catch Daryl’s every once and awhile. The promise behind them seems to be loaded with malevolence and so much more than he can physically bear. Those sinister copper eyes are bleak and haunting, reminding him of that horrific night they spent together in his room. 

After the first time it happened Daryl ran into the forest.

Blood caking between his thighs, cum cooling on his back and stomach, scared out of his fucking mind. He lay in the dirt for hours, sobbing and clutching his abdomen, cursing the heavens and the earth.

The second time he fought gallantly.

Daryl actually managed to bite Negan’s hand, causing the man to recoil sharply. The move had been satisfying, but earned him a swift punch to the face that left his eye black for weeks.

Since then he doesn’t fight anymore.

Daryl drops out of school, helps his father with the moonshine and small B&Es with car parts so that they could sell it. The crimes they do are petty and reckless; they’ve been caught so many times it’s starting to get ridiculous and by now and he can tell his father is anxious to get into the drug business.

As it so happens, Negan is the only source of solid drug flow in Gainesville.

On one particularly day Negan stops by for a visit.

Will Dixon does everything he can to be especially accommodating, which means ordering Daryl around like a damn dog to fetch them both drinks, and other refreshments.

“All’s I’m sayin’,” Will raves. “Is that ya need to start thinkin’ ‘bout some muscle. Now, it won’t be wise havin’ Len and Lou at your back, but not those damn Mexicans. Those fuckin’ taco breeders are stealin’ everythin’ from us and it’s time we start reclaimin’ our shit back, ‘specially our drugs!”

“Is that so?” 

Negan isn’t listening.

His gaze is fixated on Daryl.

“Damn right,” Will takes another snort of the cocaine on the table. “Now, I ain’t gonna beat ‘round the bush no more—I want in.” He continues bluntly. “We—we got the same interests and it’s time we move forward with that. Now, I’ve got two boys to feed—one in prison, fuckin’ piece of shit, and another who ain’t much better.”

“Okay,” Negan says smoothly. “I’ll let you in, on one condition.”

“Ya see,” Will chuckles. “I knew you’d see sense. Just name it and I’ll do it!”   

“I want Daryl to work closely with me,” Negan continues.

Will Dixon beams, his lips widening over his rotten teeth.

“Done.”

^

On the rare occasions, Daryl lulls into comfort.

There is something celestial about the Hilltop. It’s not just their agriculture vibe or organic atmosphere, but the people as well. After months of being imprisoned by the Saviour's, he is finally able to breathe, the weight of world no long resting on his shoulders.

Of course he is tormented, day and night, unrelenting fatal dreams of gore and pain, leave him sodden and jaded. The neighbours here pamper him, sensing his damn near feral behaviour as something to be slowly tempered.

At first he _hated_ them, hated their optimism and simplicity.  Not to mention their crappy trailer homes, luscious farmland and abundance of livestock.   _God_ —He hated their smiles, allusions of grandeur behind fucking wooden walls; that could just as easily burn down.

Maybe he wanted that to happen, maybe he didn’t.

Daryl wasn’t so good with the specifics. What he did know was that he didn’t belong here, no matter how good he felt or how amazing it was to find some tranquility, he knew it was only a matter of time before they noticed the weed in their garden.

Today is a fairly good day.

They’ve managed to harvest everything they need for the fall. Rick and the others have brought some previsions down with them from Alexandria, which makes everyone else feeling lighter than they have in months.

It isn’t exactly a party per say, but there is music, Paul is tinkering with his guitar and people are gathering around the bonfire for hot cider. Daryl hangs back, enclosed in shadow watching the scene play out with a near empty cup in his hand.

Gregory is prowling the field, his eyes narrowing into slits as they land on Maggie the new leader of the Hilltop. Daryl has no idea why they let him live, let alone be allowed to stay at the Hilltop, but he knows that Maggie doesn’t want to kill people unnecessarily.

Paul finally gets a good tune; when he begins to sing his voice is smooth and husky as it carries on the wind. Daryl relaxes, although he may disapprove of them spending their time leisurely and not preparing for the war he knows moments like this are equally as important.

Daryl focuses on the fire in front of him and not on how Michonne’s hand is subtly grazing Rick’s arm. Seeing them together isn’t at all surprising, he’s known for months how deep their connection was and how it seemed to grow with each passing day. Carl was ecstatic about the news, grinning from ear to ear and Judith giggling excitedly.

He clenches his cup tighter in an effort to remain focused, after all who is he to be jealous. It’s not like Rick _knows_ about his affections or would be interested anyway. They never got that far, Daryl was much too shy, much too damaged to even think about trying to seduce his best friend.

“I just don’t see the fucking point!” Someone shouts loudly.

All heads turn to see a scuffle between two newcomers to the Hilltop. One of them he recognizes as Kal and the other he doesn’t know.

“Keep your voice down!” Kal hisses.

“No,” The man blunders. “I’m not afraid to say it!”

“Say what,” Rick responds coolly, his hand resting on his Colt. “If this is about the war then I think it’s fair everybody has their say. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with askin’ questions or disagreein’ with our decision to go to war. Every body counts, every voice counts....we all matter...Now, say yer piece.”

“It just—” The man fumes, his eyes darting around nervously. “It just doesn’t seem fuckin’ fair!”

“What doesn’t?” Rick asks.

“That we all have to die for _one_ person. It’s insanity!”

“Negan is a maniac.” Rick says slowly. “Do you really think he would only kill one of us? He’s threatened everybody, our lives, our kids, our communities—”

“I’m not talking about that,” The man spits. “Why are you lying to everyone? Just tell them!”

Daryl feels something like dread coil in his gut.

The world suddenly turns colorless as he gazes at Rick, watching in slow horror as he starts to come to realization of where this conversation is headed.

“I don’t understand....” Rick answers puzzled.

“Why don’t you tell them Rick,” The man continues. “Tell them all what they are really risking their lives for. I’ll tell you that it ain’t because Negan wants our food or our crappy community.”

“Shut up Wes,” Alex grunts.

“All of you are sheep, fuckin’ sheep. Do you think things will change? Or that things will be different?”

“Calm down,” Rick responds. “What exactly are you talking about?”

Wes grins maliciously turning to stare directly at Daryl.

“Tell them. Tell them why Glenn and Abraham really died, or why we are in this war to begin with. Tell them why we are all risking our lives for nothing.”

All the peacefulness Daryl felt vanishes in an instant, his eyes fill with rage and humiliation as every head turns to look at him. Wes steps closer, his face covered in dirt and sweat.

Daryl can see the desperation there, the fear of being thrown into a war they initially wanted nothing to do with. Of course he would give _anything_ not to be the cause of this war; he would do anything to stop this from ever happening.

If Merle had been alive, if he was born into a different family, if he had just fucking left their stupid group in Atlanta like he originally planned none of this would be happening. Above all else he wishes he could reverse time and whatnot, stop things from forming and deforming.

The rest inch forward, their ears straining to hear what Wes will expose next.

Daryl allows himself to be transported back in time, where a grotesque man who has been haunting his dreams stands over his bed, unbuckling his belt, cruel hands constrict around his neck.

There is raw passion, a bit of mania, the man rutting against him, panting and grunting before finally releasing a shuddering whisper that will forever taint him: _mine_.

Daryl feels his stomach tighten as he braces himself for impact.

“A few of us were there that night, we heard what he was offering. Negan said he was willing to forget this whole thing, let us all live peacefully if he got Daryl back—if he gets his _husband_ back!”

~^~


	2. Monkey Killing, Monkey Killing Monkey

_~^~_

_Dismantle the Sun_

~^~

Something about them is deemed immoral.

Daryl recognizes this, is conscious of this even at the ripe age of fourteen he knows there is something _abnormal_ about his relationship with Negan. Perhaps, it’s because Negan is much, much older, at least pushing his early thirties while Daryl has barely peaked.

It comes to his attention when he hears the whispers in Gainesville.

Daryl recalls the strange looks he would get at the grocery store. Or the blatant muttering of homophobic remarks from people he’s known his whole life. At first he would sweat, feeling distraught at the idea of people knowing _what_ went on, that turned his stomach so violently that he rarely ever went out.

That’s when the rumors started.

They swirl around the town, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck whenever he crossed the street.  A whisper at first, some vague phrases here and there, that somehow morphed into something twisted and repulsive. Daryl doesn’t understand at first, doesn’t really grasp the gravity of it until people openly gap, their mouths drawn into a thin disapproving line before shunning him altogether.

The word fag is barked at him one day.

When it happens he’s shocked, like being doused with freezing cold water he stands there chilled to the bone in silence because there is no way—absolutely no way people think he’s a fucking _fag._ Everything that has happened with Negan isn’t remotely consensual.

Daryl doesn’t want to think about it, the nights of him screaming and crying, begging Negan to stop while his father lies passed out in the next room. Or worst of all what happens afterwards, when Negan is done pumping fluids into his body and gently strokes his sodden skin, pressing tiny kisses into his neck.

The whole thing makes his flesh _crawl_.

It’s been happening for nearly two months and Daryl hates him, hates him so fucking much he could kill him. And he almost does, almost put a bullet in his fucking head.

Daryl recalls holding his father’s rifle to the back of Negan’s head, shaking so hard he nearly fainted from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. There was a voice screaming at him to pull the trigger, his finger was trembling, practically aching to clench, but he didn’t. Instead he put the rifle away, his mind swimming and swirling.

Just like a pussy he ran back into the forest and weep like some little girl.

Things have gotten so bad that some of the men visiting his father don’t even look at him anymore. They barely acknowledge him when he comes into the room. Daryl didn’t really understand why and it wasn’t until Negan came over and placed his arm around the back of his chair when he _knew_.

One summer noon, he is bristling with hatred, marinating in it so thick it saturates his entire body. The heat is unbearable; his shirt drenched in sweat as he finally gets home after a long day of making moonshine.

The entire operation went up in smoke as soon as the cops busted them _again_ , now he was out of another job and he knew his father would be pissed, but when he opens the door all he hears is silence.

Negan is there, sitting on his couch smoking a cigar.

Daryl pauses, startled to see the man alone without his father for once. Negan regards him closely, that sleazy wax smile adorning his face. “Sit down kid.”

“Why?” Daryl grunts, his face flushing red. He doesn’t want to sit down. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near this maniac. However, he _also_ doesn’t want to be caught being rude to house guests, especially Negan of all people.

“Because I fucking said so you shit,” Negan replies, his eyes black.

They both know things can turn ugly quickly. _Hell_ , he still has the scars from the previous night to prove it. Daryl moves cautiously, almost like a crab walking sideways on the sand shores, before he sits gingerly on the weathered sofa.  

“Where’s Dad?” Daryl can’t help but ask, even though he doesn’t really give a damn where his father is, probably rotting in the gutter somewhere.

Negan doesn’t respond right away, he smokes languidly exhaling into the humid air.

“Gone.”

“Where?”

Negan continues to smoke. “I wouldn’t worry about it needlessly kid. He’s gone, that’s all that matters now so count your blessings..”

“Why would he leave? Without me?” Daryl starts to panic, even though his father is a piece of shit he wouldn’t just leave him behind. Will was a sick bastard but he wasn’t that sick, there had to be a _reason._

“Don’t worry your pretty little head kid,” Negan grins.

Although his tone implies that Daryl should in fact be very worried. Negan gazes at him, those copper eyes brimming with masochism and the promise of caressing violence.

“You’re all mine now.”

^

The revelation rings like bells in the Cathedral. Every one of them turn to stare at Daryl, at the freak who married a psycho-path. Wes looks smugly satisfied, the cat has finally caught the canary, slowly breaking it’s neck between its teeth.

He doesn’t belong here, he knows that. Heard it a thousand times in his head and in the thoughts of others. Daryl scowls at Wes, tempted to smash his face into the ground, but he knows aggression won’t solve this.

Instead it will make everything much worse, it may even inflame the people of the Hilltop and he’ll be cast out for sure. _Goddamn these people_ —he turns to Rick, desperate for the Sheriff to come to his aid. A few words from him will quiet the mob, settle their disgruntled worries and thoughts of imaginary slights.

All Rick has to do is tell them that Negan isn’t going to settle for just him and that what Wes overheard was the beginning of a very _long_ conversation. When their eyes lock Rick frowns deeply, not at all surprised by the turn of events. Daryl waits for Rick to speak, waits for his friend to reprimand Wes for speaking ill of him.

However, the silence stretches on too long and it suddenly becomes clear that Rick isn’t going to say _jack-shit_.

After all they’ve had this conversation many times and every time Rick would beg him to tell the people of Alexandria and Hilltop the truth about his past before it got out. Daryl adamantly refused, stating he would rather die than bare those secrets that were so dirty and foul that they left a stench a mile high.

Now those secrets were out, exposed for all to see and fuck did he _hate_ them for that. With one lasting glare he tosses his half empty cider on the ground and storms off towards the trailers.

 _Fuck_ Wes—that goddamn piece of shit has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Sure, he married Negan but that was a long time ago. It means nothing now, their marriage means nothing and if that cunt only knew the circumstance he wouldn’t be running his mouth.

“Daryl wait!” Rick calls. 

“Leave me be,” he growls, storming away from the bonfire, from the stupid people at the Hilltop, _from_ Rick.

“Calm down—”

“Fuck you.”

“He doesn’t know what’s talking about!” Rick blunders after him.

Daryl gets inside Paul’s trailer unsuccessfully slamming the door shut behind him, because Rick catches it before it closes completely. “Just hear me out.”

“Just leave me be alright—”

“No,” Rick says stubbornly. “Now what he said isn’t true and it ain’t right—”

“It is _true_ ,” Daryl spat. “It’s so fucking true that I don’t know why you keep fighting it.”

“Still Wes had no right to say it like that. We both know that once Negan gets you he won’t be satisfied. I know the type of person Negan is. The second he gets you it’ll never end, his demands will never end."

“You don’t know shit about Negan,” Daryl fumes. “You don’t know the type of person that he is.”

Rick pauses and then changes tack. “Well, then enlighten me.”  

Daryl doesn’t respond.

Rick sighs. “God, it’s like....”

The sigh grates on his nerves, it’s almost as if Rick is disappointed in him. Like he is the cause of Wes’ rave. Daryl paces the confines of the trailer, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glowers at his friend. _What the hell did Rick know anyway?_

“Like what?” Daryl challenges.

Rick regards him for a moment. “It’s like you’re so quick to tell me I don’t know shit about Negan...and I don’t....but _you_ won’t offer anythin’ in return I mean for Christsake’s....you were _married_ to him....you know him better than anybody but....you don’t want to talk about it? After he took you we thought....we didn’t know what to think....I didn’t know what to think....perhaps.....maybe you _wanted_ to go with him—”

“Get the _fuck_ out.”

“No, we are going to talk about this right here and now.”

“He tortured me!” Daryl explodes. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That when I was fourteen he fucking _raped_ me? Or maybe how he used to beat me bloody when I threaten to leave him? Oh, wait I know you want to hear about how jealous he used to get? How he nearly _killed_ my friend because he thought we were foolin’ around? Even better was when he married me when I was eighteen just so that I would remain his fucking _property_?”  

Rick is stunned into silence, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Just get out alright.”

“I—I’m so sorry....I had no idea he did those things to you...”

 _Damn_ Rick’s pity—he didn’t need it nor did he want it. Yes, his childhood was by all accounts very fucking tragic. He didn’t want to rehash it, the panic attacks were bad enough.

This whole thing could be resolved easily, as broken as he was Negan would still take him back with his arms wide open. That would stop the war, at least momentarily until Negan grew bored and restless, but that would give them some time to mobilize. Daryl would do that, sacrifice himself for the sake of his family, for Carl and Judith and all the other lives he put at risk.

“He’s my fuckin’ nightmare.” Daryl answers somberly. “When I was young I fought but as I got older..I just let him do whatever he wanted....I was nothin’.....nobody....he took me in....I owe him my life....he wants me back....maybe Wes was right....maybe I should just go back....”

“No,” Rick says sternly. “What he did to you was fucking horrible and I will not let him take you again. That isn’t an option. We stand and we fight. If he did all those horrible things to you he will do them again. We cannot allow that…. I will not allow that. We are in this together, brother.”

Daryl wants to _scream_ that they are not brothers, he wants to shake Rick until his teeth rattle and his bones jumble.  _Can’t Rick see the way that he looks at him? How his eyes trail over his body greedily, yearning and hungry for everything and anything he could give?_ If Rick only knew the perverted dreams he has, most of them of him on his back, legs spread, ass up, cock bouncing in the air— _fuck._

“We’re not....” brothers.

Rick steps forward. “What?”

Daryl lowers his gaze.“Uh…I mean he’ll come for me.....sooner or later...even before when I tried to get away....I couldn’t ever run far enough...or fast enough....Negan always get’s what he wants.....”

“I don’t believe that,” Rick responds. “You don’t belong to him anymore. You belong with us, here or in Alexandria.”

Rick doesn’t understand the way the world works, or at least how it has worked for Daryl. Things aren’t so black and white, sure he might find some semblance of happiness here but Negan would always come.

It was only a matter of time.

Was he willing to put all of their lives in jeopardy? Risk Judith, Carol, Michonne and everyone else there?

The trade didn’t make sense.

It was suicide to go up against the Saviour's alone.  Yet, despite knowing they will lose, knowing there will be nothing left, he can feel the heat of fire burning behind Rick’s eyes.

They’ve been up against worst before and still survived.

“Are you with me?”

Daryl stares at Rick, knowing  deep down that no matter what he could never refuse him. Love made slaves of them all.  

“Yeah, I’m with ya.”

^

The first three weeks are the hardest.

Daryl rebels at every turn, morphing into a belligerent, petulant brat that has Negan’s blood boiling every second of the day. Which might be worth it, to be filled with the overwhelming sense of satisfaction of disobeying orders. However, the consequences are oftentimes severe and long lasting. 

Daryl hates this arrangement.

Also as much as he hates his fucking father for doing this to him. He had no say in the matter whatsoever. His dumbass father sold him, for _what_? A few grams of coke and a high that wouldn’t last longer than a few days? Will Dixon packed his belongings, took off across the state and left Daryl to live with Negan for the time being.

The blow is crippling and of course he knows his father hates him, of course he _knows_ that, but seeing it is something else entirely.

His resolve to fight this is strong, however Negan is stronger.

Negan forces him to go to another school, in another town. Drives him practically there every single day, buys his books, and makes sure he had enough money for lunch. Daryl is perplexed to say the least, and slowly after a long period of time accepts this new arrangement, because at least with Negan he isn’t being beaten or starved, at least for a little while it seems like _someone_ cares.

This morning, while they are eating breakfast Negan is reading the paper.

“Sit up straight you little shit,” He barks, noticing how Daryl always slouches in his chair.

Daryl glares at him over a bowl of Fruit Loops before eating again.

“I’ve got company tonight,” Negan announces. “Stay in your room, keep the fuck out of my way.”

“Who is it?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Negan grunts. “God, where did you learn manners, the barnyard? I guess growing up with Will it was pretty damn close, huh kid?”

“Don’t call me kid,” Daryl huffs.

Negan stares at him impassively. “Whatever...anyways it’s just the usual group of losers I have over every damn week. Make sure you do your fucking homework and your choirs. I want this place spotless by the time they come over.”

Daryl nods hastily grabbing his lunch and backpack.

“Don’t be late tonight!” Negan calls after him.

He races out the door, sprinting to catch the bus that has just stopped in front of the house. The driver opens the door and Daryl gets on promptly, sighing in relief when he sits down.

It’s hard to believe he actually lives in a neighborhood like this. Much less that Negan does, but here he is. In a two story house at the edge of Gainesville, nestled neatly in suburbia, equipped with a white picket fence, a few lawn chairs and a fully furnished basement.

 _Christ_ —this place is practically a fucking mansion from the trailer trash box he grew up in. He doesn’t know much about the men that come over to visit Negan.

What he does know is that they are involved in some heavy shit. He’s seen them around constantly, popping in and out of the house all hours of the day. Negan didn’t keep any of the products with him but this is essentially where everyone came to meet to discuss trade, count cash and talk distribution.

The day passes uneventfully.

Daryl goes to all of his classes, keeps to himself because even in the next fucking county he is still that “Dixon kid”. When he gets back to the house he does his choirs, remembering to clean the toilets and empty the trash cans, not to mention make the bed. Daryl stays primarily in the basement of the house, which is fully furnished, while Negan remains in the master bedroom.

He’s in his room doing his homework when he hears the men come over.

Their voices carry throughout the house and Daryl is curious as to what exactly they are talking about. He guessed that it must be about drugs, maybe a big drug deal going on. A large part of him wants to know when, how and where just to be sure. He taps his pencil against his note pad, weighing the pros and cons of leaving his room and possibly being discovered by Negan.

The thought of pissing Negan off certainly has it appeal. 

So worth it, he concludes, getting up from his desk and walking downstairs. He keeps low to the ground, crouching until he reaches the banister; he glances down and sees the men gathered in the living. Negan is sharing drinks, his riotous laugh echoing off the walls.

One of the men he recognizes as Simon or the “jackal” as Negan likes to refer to him. Daryl thinks it because the man has such a severe facial expression, almost like a wild animal. The meeting drags on for a few minutes, they laugh and talk, mostly in code though. Daryl can’t deduce exactly where or when the drop will be but he knows it’s happening soon.

After fifteen minutes he’s bored out of his mind and ready to get back to his homework. He gets up to leave and accidentally steps to hard on the floor causing it to creak. He freezes, entire body going tense with anticipation, but as he hears nothing he continues onward.

When he looks back, his eyes lock with Negan’s full on glare.  

Shit, maybe it wasn’t worth it.

~^~


	3. Over pieces of the ground.

~^~

_Dismantle the Sun_

_~^~_

Daryl digs his heel into the ground, before crouching low.

The soil is slightly damp, several clusters of footprints lead towards the south. He adjusts the strap of his bow, gazing off into the distance. “That way.”

“Alright,” Rick nods, signalling to the others.

This land is unfamiliar, but he can tell the Saviour’s have been scavenging this area just by their recklessness, there were numerous amounts of ammo cartridges, plus most of the houses have been stripped clean of everything, even their mattresses.

A small group of them were scouting the area trying to get a good idea of what else was around here and to see if they could find any more guns. The sun is sweltering, he’s already drenched and it’s barely noon yet. “Do you think anythin’ will be left?” Rick asks walking beside him.

“I dunno...” Daryl says. “Unlikely, but we can still check. Paul said there was a factory around here.”

“Paul?” Rick asks, turning to stare at him.

“I ain’t callin’ him fuckin’ _Jesus_ ,” Daryl snaps, probably with too much heat. Why the fuck would he do that? Just because the guy is some self-proclaimed prophet in the damn apocalypse doesn’t mean he has to adhere to it.

Rick chuckles. “Right....we’ll best get on with it.”

They walk in silence for a while, until Michonne catches Rick’s eyes and suddenly he’s jogging over to her. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see them together, to see them so sickeningly happy, but it does. Pretty fucking badly if he’s being honest with himself, which these days he rarely is. Daryl can see the beads of sweat on Rick’s forehead, his damp shirt clinging to his strong back.

 _Christ_ _—_ it’s damn near sinful. Daryl fixes his gaze elsewhere, eager to be rid of these thoughts.

“You okay?” Carol asks, her voice catching him by surprise.

“Fantastic,” He mutters. “You?”

“Fine,” Carol responds slowly.

Something about her is so very different. She doesn’t talk the same or smile much. Her face is drawn with more lines and wrinkles than ever before. She isn’t the person he knew so well, long ago.

She just isn’t the _same_ anymore, he finally decides.

When he first saw her at the Kingdom he had been gutted that she left, fucking agonized over that fact that she had abandoned him— _again_. However, seeing her in that little cottage isolated from everyone made him realize just how much it was probably for the best.

She doesn’t want to hurt people anymore, or so she says. But she’s here, fighting this war with them, which doesn’t make much sense but he gets why. They are family, even if it hasn’t felt that way in a long time. Carol left, she stayed at the Kingdom while the rest of them were tortured and kept under Negan’s thumb.

Of course that isn’t her fault, but she wasn’t there, she didn’t see what the fuck happened. How brutal it was, how Maggie screamed or Sasha wailed. Carol was safe, which is great, but their relationship isn’t the same. Even now when they are at war Carol doesn’t stay with the group, she is all cozy with Ezekiel and his fucking tiger.

Carol is _here_ , but at the same time she isn’t—not really.  

“You should have told me.” She says. “You should have—we should have been aware of what was going on.”

He should have told her a lot of things, starting with the death of Glenn and Abraham.

“It’s best ya didn’t know.” He answers.

“Best for whom?”

“What the _fuck_ do ya want?" He grunts.

“The truth for once.”

“Why?”

“Because you owe it to us.”

“I don’t owe you _shit_.”

“Daryl,” Carol barks. “Why can’t you just let us in?”

 _Because I can’t let anyone in, Negan made sure of that_. He wants to shout.

“I’m sorry,” He says instead.

Carol stops to glare at him. “You’re gonna be.”

**^**

“Go into my bedroom and wait for me there.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Daryl huffs, before running up the stairs and going to Negan’s bedroom. The room is the largest room in the house, the furniture is expensive, custom build hand carved mahogany. Daryl has never seen anything like it. He walks around the room, in awe of the mounted animal deer heads on the wall and the various pictures of Negan posing with hunting rifles with several other men.

“Where the fucking fuck do you get off listening in on my meetings?”

Daryl starts, turning sharply when he hears Negan enter the room.

“Answer me kid,” Negan strides towards him. “That is not cool. Very not cool.”

“I didn’t really hear nothin’.....was just curious is all....”

Negan regards him closely. “I told you, I don’t want you near any of this shit. So, when I say stay the fuck away I mean.....”

Daryl rolls his eyes. “Stay the fuck away.”

“That’s my boy,” Negan grins. “Come sit with me. I need to talk to you for a minute.” He gestures to the end of the bed, where he slowly sits down, patting a space beside him.

Daryl sits and waits, his hands folded carefully in his lap.

“Do you know why I asked you to move in with me?”

“No.”

“It’s because you're special and I like special things, as you can see I only decorate my house with the very best Daryl. That is why you moved in with me. There’s another reason of course, one that might be difficult to understand, you follow me?”

He honestly didn’t, but nods anyway.

“Everything has a purpose, take this piece of fucking wood for instance.” Negan touches the headboard softly. “See on its own it’s pretty fucking useless, but if you sand it down, polish it up and craft into a chair or a bed frame then it becomes useful. In this instance without it nothing would be holding up my bed. That’s what you are Daryl, a nice piece of fucking wood. Do you understand?”

No. “Yes.”

“Good,” Negan says. “Now, things aren’t going to be like when you were living with your father. Things are going to be different from now on. Starting with you sharing my bed, I don’t want you to sleep downstairs anymore.”

Daryl lowers his eyes, because he knew it would come to this, sooner or later it always comes to this.

“Now to more pressing concerns,” Negan says. “Do you know what a prostate is?”

Daryl shakes his head.

“Well....we’ll just call is a p-spot that can make guys cum very quickly. Will you give me a chance to play with it?”

 _Christ_ —he wants to say no. He wants to tell Negan that he ain’t a fucking fag and that this gay shit isn’t going to work out for him. Images of the last time he told Negan no, flashes through his brain, the blinding pain, the blistering bruises and finally blackness.

Daryl can still feel the blood caking between his thighs and the cum dripping from his asshole. Negan didn’t give a shit, he knew that. When it was over all he did was pull his pants up, lightly pat his ass and drunkenly stagger out of the room. That pain is still fresh, still potent so he nods in agreement.

“Good,” Negan answers licking his lips. “God, look at you. So precious. You’re so good. I knew you would be so good for me.” He palms his crotch obscenely, staring down at him. “ _Fuck_ , I need you right now. Do you need me? Do you want me?”

 _Hell no_ , he almost snaps, but bites his tongue. Negan inches forward, grabbing his face with his large hands.

“God, you are everything.” Negan captures his lips in a animalistic kiss, the facial hair bristles against his flesh as Negan presses down into the bed. The kiss is consuming, Daryl finds himself being suffocated by how demanding and passionate it is.

They’ve never kissed before. Not like this, not all callous hands and strong fingers working and probing down his cheek and neck. He feels overwhelmed but tries awkwardly, with severe lack of sophistication to kiss Negan back. The gesture itself obliterates sanity of Negan before he crushes Daryl into the bed, covering his entire body with his weight groaning loudly.

Daryl, who had never been kissed before, made the discovery of the mouth of another, the roughness of his unshaven cheek, the hardness of teeth and the wetness of his tongue. The room spun as he tries to keep up, his inexperienced mouth struggling with the harshness of Negan’s lips.

“Yes,” Negan whispers. “ _Fuck_ yes, I’m going to fuck your boy pussy. I’m going to get it so nice and wet for me and split it open. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me to split you open. Say it!”

“Yes,” Daryl trembles. “But Negan—”

“It won’t hurt,” Negan interrupts. “Not like last time. Never like last time. I lost control of myself....I saw you and I just....that won’t happen again. I promise. You believe me, I know you believe me because you’re a good boy and you’re mine. All fucking mine.”

Negan attacks his mouth again, shoving his tongue down his throat, nearly devouring him. Daryl quivers, shaking in every limb with repressed emotion, half rage, half desire. He doesn’t know why he is giving in or why it feels so fucking good, to have Negan’s voice whispering like hot thunder in his ear, but he likes it. Negan grunted impatiently, his teeth scraping across his neck before he latches onto his skin and sucks deeply, causing him to cry out.

Then Negan pulls at his shirt, tugging the fabric over his head. Next is his pants and underwear in one go, until he is completely naked except his white socks. “No, leave those on. I wanna fuck you with your socks on.”

Negan strokes his nipples, causing them to pebble beneath the assault. Daryl gasps, heaving light because of the sparks of pleasure that erupt through his entire body. Yes, it does feel good. Even though he _hates_ Negan, hates him with the fire of a thousand suns.

 _Christ_ —his nipples were so sensitive, so deliciously responsive that he is practically drooling from them being played with.

And when Negan latches his mouth onto them Daryl moans loudly.

“Oh God, you’re such a whore,” Negan says between kisses. “Such a filthy cock slut, so dirty just for me. I knew you would be. I knew you would love my cock the second I saw you. I knew you were so nasty, depraved and so fucking sick.”

Negan kissed him deeply, almost like he was a man dying of thirst and Daryl was a moist fruit. “I’m going to play with your asshole. I’m going to get it all wet and filthy while I fuck it with my fingers. Would you like that? Would you like me to play with you?”

Before he can respond Negan gets off the bed. Daryl shudders once he is exposed to the cold air in the room. Negan returns quickly with a bottle of Olive Oil and a towel. “I’ll need to get some supplies....however, right now I can’t wait. I need you so bad. Do you know what you do to me? Do you know how you drive me crazy?”

He honestly didn’t know.

Negan lays the towel down. “Lift your hips,” then he drizzles some oil onto his hand. “Spread your legs.”

Daryl is a little apprehensive about this. They’ve had sex before but never like this; never face to face and it’s extremely daunting since he is the only one naked. Negan towers over him, those copper eyes are black with razor sharp arousal.

Noticing his hesitation Negan forcefully nudges his knees apart, groaning loudly when he gazes at his pretty pink cock, nestled in a bush of hair.

“Beautiful.”

His elegant fingers trace his puckered entrance. The oil is warm and soothing because the flesh is still a bit tender from before. Negan goes slow, pouring more oil onto his flaccid cock and down his crack. Daryl shifts uncomfortably, noticing the damn near demonic expression Negan wears on his face.

Then he inserts his finger, the intrusion is abrupt, causing him to tense quickly, clenching his cheeks together. Negan chuckles lightly, licking his lips. “Relax kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Daryl grits out.

The finger slide out, then two more back in. Daryl yelps, staring down and watching the push and pull, each one less gentle than the one before. Negan laps at his thigh, plunging his fingers in and out, out and in, then _curls_ them and Daryl jerks violently.

Negan strikes the bundle again, causing tears to sting his eyes. In a flash Daryl felt all the intimations of physical passion he ever felt before, his cock swells and his body arches. Negan moves quickly, driving his fingers in and out, a perverse squelching noise fills the room along with Daryl’s intense moans.

“So filthy, so nasty, you love this. You love having my fingers inside you, fucking your insides, making your cum like the dirty bitch that you are. God, you want my cock so badly. I know you want it I can see it. Daryl, say you want my cock and you can have it. Say you want my big, fat, cock, splitting you in half. Say it.”

Daryl felt like he was on fire, his skin was clammy as he shivered from the deep drawl of Negan’s voice. _God_ —he did want this, he wanted his cock deep inside him, more than he wanted to cum.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Negan unbuttons his pants, sliding them past his waist allowing his cock to spring free, hard and aching. The sight of it stirs something within Daryl, he’s had nightmares about this, horrible dreams that cause him to awaken in the night pissing his pants, shaking and sweating.

Yet, now things were different, now he was actually _begging_ for his nightmare to come true. Grabbing the Olive Oil off the table Negan spreads a generous amount of his cock, lathering up the treacherous intromittent organ until it is slick and wet. Negan leers above him, clutching the base of his cock, his face is sodden and he looks almost deranged.

His mind stops working the second he feels the head of Negan’s cock press insistently against his entrance, the first press is agonizing, pain bursts through his ass, exploding up his spine. Daryl nearly screams but the sound catches in his throat and he chokes on air.

In an ecstasy of lust Negan shoved in, inch by inch, forcing Daryl to stretch to accommodate his girth.  Negan pulls all the way out, before slamming quickly back in, pounding Daryl into the mattress with such vigour he can hardly breathe. The powerful thrust causes his body to jerk and move, he can feel every drag of Negan’s cock through his entire body and after a while he surrenders to him.

Spangled rays of red and white rupture through his vision, fireworks light up behind his eyelids and he moans and groans, pants and whimpers beneath a man he loathes.

Nonetheless, Daryl clings to him, desperate for reassurance that this cruel man needed him, that this arduous, vile creature actually _cares_ for him—only that knowledge would prevent him from being annihilated.  

“Fuck, your juicy little boy pussy is so fucking greedy,” Negan babbles. “Oh shit, Goddamn!”

 _God_ —he’s so close. With his eyes shut he can feel the pressure mounting, the world is spinning as he climbs to the height of his pleasure. Daryl erupts, milky cum spurting out of his cock and onto his stomach.

Negan growls, his hand clamps down hard against his neck, his large thumb pressed against his pulse. It’s damn near stifling, and he wheezes lightly as Negan continues to ram his cock inside him.

By now he’s oversensitive, wincing from the assault and subtly trying to convey that by going completely slack. Negan is ravenous, his hips thrust hard and deep, until he grunts impatiently, grabbing Daryl’s legs and spreading him wider. Daryl clenches his teeth, slight pain erupting in his pelvis and moving towards his lower spin.

Negan lurches forward, covering his entire body and claiming his lips in a brutish kiss. Daryl shudders, allowing Negan to continue to use his limp body to chase gratification. Fortunately for him it doesn’t last much longer, soon after Negan is spewing a stream of curses thrusting erratically on top of him before stilling completely.

Daryl feels his ass flood with warm liquid as he lies puffing loudly.

“Damn kid,” Negan says breathlessly after several long minutes of silence. “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

And Daryl believes him.

_~^~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *:&
> 
> Thanks to Iloveyousunshine for editing this chapter!
> 
> Thoughts?


	4. Now they're all confused.

~^~

_Dismantle the Sun_

_~^~_

Rings of smoke coil in the midnight air.

Daryl stands on the porch, enclosed in darkness, blowing soot through his mouth and nostrils, watching the careless tendrils twine and twirl. His hand is shaking, sweat is cooling on his back and forehead, his heart is slamming against his rib cage.

Negan came to him, skin tortiled in barbwire, blood pouring from his eyes and mouth, his hand outstretched as he wailed in agony. _You’re mine, you’re mine_. Daryl screams back at the phantom, viciously denying the claim but no sound falls from his lips.

 _Christ_ —what has he done? Tears sting his eyes as he stares out at the Hilltop Colony. In a few weeks most of these people will be dead or worse, they won’t have a home to go back to.

A tumbling mist of the past, of what they once were before everything is infused in hell-fire. Daryl will have to stand by and watch it all burn because he was selfish.

“Bum a smoke?” A voice asks behind him.

He sighs deeply, before turning around.

Paul is perched on the railing beside him, smirk on his lips. _Sneaky bastard_ —Daryl thinks snidely, he’s the only one who can creep up on him like that. He hands Paul a smoke, then lights it for him.

“What’s got you brooding at this hour?”

Daryl shrugs and smokes, his eyes fixed on the skyline.

“The war I’ll bet.”

Daryl nods, but doesn’t add anymore.

“I feel ya man,” Paul continues. “We still have a few weeks to prepare, plus the element of surprise….that’s always good….”

Not really, since that’s the only thing they have going from them. Plus a freaking tiger, but beyond that they don’t have much. Negan still has the numbers, the fire power, the resources—they pretty much have _fuck all._

“A good blow-job would help you clear your head.”

Daryl cuts his eye at him. “What?”

“I said a good blow-job—”

“I heard ya,” Daryl snaps. “Why are ya talkin’ ‘bout blow-jobs?”

“Why not?” Paul grins. “I’m horny and I haven’t had sex since Alex left me for Wes,” He says the last part bitterly. “We are both healthy men and you are reasonably attractive, asshole tendencies notwithstanding….so….why not?”

“Are ya propositionin’ me?”

“If you agree than yes, if not than no,” Paul chuckles, exhaling smoke into the air. “Your choice.”

“I reckon we got more important things to worry ‘bout,” Daryl mutters.

“Like defeating your husband?” Paul asks.

Daryl grinds his teeth together.

“How long were you married anyways?” Paul probes.

Daryl sighs in exasperation.

“Close to twenty-four years.”

Paul whistles loudly. “Dang, that’s a long ass time.”

It was, he remembers it all clearly, but the last thing he wants to do is open that can of worms with a damn self-proclaimed prophet.

“When are you going to tell them?” Paul presses on-wards. “When I found you it seemed pretty clear that Negan still cared about you. Hell, you weren’t even in the cell with all the other prisoners. I think at this point you probably should tell them, it would be worse if they find out from someone else—”

“Don’t ya know when to shut the _fuck_ up!” Daryl spat, snubbing his cigarette out on the wooden railing.

“Is that any way to treat a concerned friend?” Paul feigns being hurt. “But in all seriousness they need to know, especially Rick and once they do it might change things, you know? Give us the advantage for once—”

“No.” Daryl barks. “Don’t bring it up, don’t speak about it, don’t say a fuckin’ word to anybody. Ya got it? Or the Saviors will be the least of yer worries.”

“Touchee,” Paul mumbles.

Daryl storms into the trailer slamming the door shut behind him. _Why the hell did he agree to share a trailer with Paul for Christ-sakes?_ Out of everyone in Hilltop it had to be his trailer. Daryl goes back to his self-made bed on the couch, internally steaming about their conversation.

There was no way anybody could know.

They wouldn’t understand the complexity of his relationship with Negan. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other, years since they’ve shared a bed or anything remotely sexual happened between them. During that time things have changed drastically, he’s not the same and neither is Negan.

That much became clear when Negan beat Glenn and Abraham to death right in front of him.

Daryl doesn’t want to think about his time in captivity, the little white-lies he told Rick to make him believe he was actually held as a prisoner. Things weren’t that simple, if they knew the truth then he would surely be classified as the enemy.

His thoughts wander back to that dream, quick and strident vivid images dance before his eyes. Daryl is filthy, he knows that. He’s become whatever Negan molded him to be and a part of him down down down enjoys this turmoil.

Before he can stop himself his hand is in his pants, cock hard and aching. _Fuck_ —Paul can walk in at anytime, catch him jerking off but at this point he doesn’t care.

Daryl hates Negan, fucking hates him.

And yet all at once he _loves_ him desperately, so very desperately. Daryl would have done anything to be with him. The phantom comes again, dancing behind his closed eyes latching onto his neck, sucking ruthless, rocking against him.

Of course he recalls Negan’s rough hands, brutish and unyielding, a voice like white-hot thunder in his ear. _You’re mine_ , grunted and burned into his flesh. Those black eyes barreling into his soul, he recalls everything.

At some point, halfway between frantically jerking his cock and picturing his monster ex-husband fucking the shit out of him, he tries to think of Rick. All soft features, full lips and soothing voice, callous hands and gentle heart.

That makes everything worse and his thoughts jump right back to being spread eagle, face down, ass-up, Negan panting in his ear, thick cock violently ramming his hole until he is bleeding from the outside in, engorged cock rutting, balls slapping against balls, sweat dripping down his back— _fuck,_  he comes all over his hand.

The euphoria lasts for only a moment before shame floods his entire body. He’s a traitor to Alexandria, to his people, to Rick.

Negan will kill them all.

_How can he love his murderer?_

^

Negan sculpts him artfully.

Daryl learns this the hard way, when the years fade and there is nothing left but ashes in his mouth. Due to his own arrogance he fails to notice that if he stopped to think about it he would self-implode, if he stops wandering he might  actually be found, if he stops covering his eyes he would see the light.

Perhaps Daryl enjoys the darkness as well, after all he is a creature of habit. Of course it was too late for him to realize that he was being chiseled and engraved, molded and modeled into something else entirely.

He would lay in bed after their sex, pondering and cuddling next to Negan because after awhile it didn’t hurt so much, bruises healed, feelings grew and suddenly sex was something he thoroughly enjoyed.

He would never admit that of course, never utter a word of it. However, when Negan was ravenous, pressing him down into the mattress, fingering his hole with raptured intolerance then Daryl would surrender.

It was temporary, blissful even during a night of wild sex and exchanging bodily fluids. _That’s my boy,_  Negan would praise. The man’s beard bristling against Daryl’s cheek. During those intimate moments he was cared for, appreciated, dare he say _loved_ even.

Negan favored him above all else, and soon he began to take pride in that.

“Isn’t it take your kid to work day or some shit?” Negan mumbles, pressing intense feather kisses on Daryl jaw.

Tonight is movie night.

Daryl choose some gaudy film about killer Piranhas. The film itself is scary as hell, so he’s curled up at Negan’s side, stuffing his face with popcorn and hiding whenever a scene makes him jump.

“I guess so,” Daryl mutters, eyes glued to the T.V.

“Come to the warehouse with me tomorrow,” Negan says. “I want you to see it for yourself.”

Daryl perks up, he quickly pauses the movie so he can stare at Negan. “Really?”

“Fuck yeah,” Negan chuckles. “It’s time you learn something. I’ll have Simon take you on a tour then you can meet me later. I’ll introduce you to the guys and you can see where all the fun happens.”

Daryl beams, he’s been wanting to visit the warehouse for ages. While he lived with his father that is all his friends ever spoke about, there was so much secrecy around exactly where the drug flow was coming from.

Now he would actually _see_ it.

The next day he could barely contain his excitement, Daryl was nearly bouncing off the walls when Negan drove them to the warehouse. When they arrive his eyes jump out of their sockets, the place is huge, hulking building surrounded by a barbwire fence.

“Pay attention to Simon,” Negan instructs as he gets out of his ‘97 red camaro, he was all decked out in his signature leather jacket, dark wash jeans and sunglasses. “Give him the respect you would give me boy, and I want a full report when he’s done.”

“Yes sir,” Daryl nods diligently.

“That’s my boy,” Negan grins, pulling him into a tight hug. “Remember who you belong to.”

Daryl shuddered at the thought.

The tour lasts for several hours with Simon, he is introduced to the crew of men, most of them he knows from his father. They all regard him with cool indifference, some of their looks lingering far too long to be friendly.

However, Daryl isn’t at all dissuaded by any of that, he is far too entranced with the amount of drugs they are distributing. Simon takes him to meet up with Negan in the lunchroom and by then he is brimming with a full report of what he saw, he’s eager to share only to pause when he sees Negan surrounded by a group of men, intently listening to everything he has to say.

“We need to remember our power. We aren’t those sorry sacks of shits that don’t know any better. We fucking run this town. The cops damn well know it. We’ve got more firepower, more men than the whole station combined. We need to harness it, use it to our advantage,” Negan says leaning back in his chair, the whole room is blanketed in a silence, almost like a reverence, to listen to what Negan is about to say next. “Just remember _one_ man with a gun can control _one-hundred_ without one.”

Daryl was in awe.

Nobody could hypnotize a room the way Negan can, his charisma alone was astounding, he felt honored to be here today. The air was buzzing around them, it felt like time slowed and his vision narrowed to focus on the most important person in the room.

“The measure of a man is not how much power he has, but what he  _does_ with that power.”

Their eyes lock, in the depths of those warm embers is a vengeance Daryl has never known, never seen before in all his fourteen years.

“Let’s get to work.”

By the end of the day Daryl is all goose-flesh and grit, heart and skin hardening to the tasks that lay before him. Negan passes him a gun, pats his head and kisses his ear affectionately.

“Ready soldier?” Negan asks, the corner of his lips nailed to his cheeks in a waxy tenacious smile.

“Ready.”

~^~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So it begins....
> 
> A big thanks to Iloveyousunshine for editing this chapter! 
> 
> Thoughts?


	5. Angels on the sideline

~^~

_Dismantle the Sun_

_~^~_

He might be ready to jump out the window.

They’ve been discussing the same _goddamn fucking_ thing for nearly six hours. The facts remain the same: Negan has the numbers, he has the firepower, he has the high ground—they don’t have shit.

Daryl paces the room impatiently, watching people from the Kingdom, Alexandria, the Hilltop and along with the traitor Gregory banter back and forth about fuck-all at the Barrington House. They are standing around a round table with a large map of the land on it, various chess pieces are used to signify each group spread out across the area.

The whole thing is stupid, Daryl doesn’t want to spend a single moment stuck in this room listening to them try to plan how to defeat Negan. The idea itself is almost _absurd_ , nobody defeats Negan they run for their lives.

As much as he wants to believe that they stand a chance, he knows deep down that they don’t. Negan would come, he would pillage, he would rave and then there would be nothing left. He can’t remember the exact moment when things started to feel so helpless, perhaps it happened somewhere along the lines with his daymares.

Those horrid images of Negan wrapping a hand around his throat, fucking into him raw, deliciously painful lips scraping against his cheeks. _Fuck_ —he should go to hell for those thoughts. It’s been years since he’s been remotely fixated on his ex-husband.

Daryl prefers to push those thoughts aside, pretend they don’t exist and whatnot, rather than face the reality outright. Why would he? For so long he banished all thoughts of Negan, tucked them away in a tiny corner and made room for something else.

Or someone else.

He turns to look at Rick, who is leaning over the table, the button up stretches over his taut arms as his glacial eyes scan the map.

“What about this area?” Michonne says, pointing to some hills further north.

“That takes us too close to the sea,” Ezekiel responds, readjusting the staff in his hand. “It wouldn’t do us much good to push our people that far.”

“We need more scouts,” Michonne counters. “We don’t know what else is out there. We could find guns, resources or—”

“More trouble,” Carol mumbles. “Look, we’ve exhausted the areas around here. I understand you want to spread out, but that would thin us out when we need to stick together. We don’t know if Negan has men out there, what happens if we send more people out to scout and scavenge and he captures them.”

Rick sighs. “She’s right. We can’t risk it.”

“We have no weapons,” Michonne says vehemently. “What do you expect us to fight with? Are you going to spend months training everyone on how to use sticks and bows, when they have automatic weapons? It’s suicide.”

“She’s right,” Maggie chimes in. “The oceanside gave us the weapons but it isn’t enough. We need more. Even if we send a small group out, create a distraction then maybe we’d stand a chance.”

“Okay,” Rick relents. “Let’s say we did provide a distraction….what do ya propose?”

“We can loot these areas,” Maggie points to one of Negan’s compounds. “Then have them hide somewhere. We have the advantage of surprise. He doesn’t know we are workin’ together.”

It’s the dumbest plan he’s ever heard.

Negan isn’t stupid, he would figure this out from a mile away.  The plan didn’t make any sense. So what if they created a distraction? What happened to the people who were in hiding? What if they were found? What if they didn’t get very far?

Daryl shakes his head dispassionately.

“Not bad,” Ezekiel praises. “Where would we hide them? Negan doesn’t have any interaction with the Kingdom, once they finish looting and making a big enough distraction they can head back there. That would be the most logical place to hide in this predicament.”

“Agreed,” Rick leans forward, his crystal eyes sweeping the map. “The distraction can’t be too big, but it needs to be large enough to get his attention.”

Daryl gives a derisive snort. “That ain’t gonna work.”

Every eye in the room turns to look at him, probably because it’s the first time he’s spoken since the meeting started. This plan is so  _idiotic_ he can’t stop himself from speaking up. Daryl doesn’t usually participate, he just follow orders and injects the occasional comment here and there.

Most of the times it does suffice, however recently he can tell that his lack of concurrence is making them suspicious of him. Daryl knows what they say behind his back, whispers of betrayal and secrete coordination with Negan.

“Yeah?” Rosita sneers by her seat on the windowsill. “Why not princess?”

Daryl ignores the jab. “See that,” He points near the compound they plan to attack on the map. “The contour lines are further apart, the gradient is flatter, so the further apart they are located, the flatter the ground on the map is.”

They all look dumbfounded.

By now he should be used to it, people are always surprised when he opens his mouth and actually knows what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Meaning...?” Gregory demands.

“It’s an open field,” Daryl snaps. “If they attack that compound they won’t have any coverage from the trees, they’ll basically be sitting ducks for snipers. They ain’t gonna make it back to the Kingdom.”

“So, we’re back to square one?” Sasha groans.

“We could provide firepower—” Michonne answers quickly.

“And waste what resources we have left?” Gregory interrupts. “I’m with greasy on this one. The plan is straight up suicide.”

“Alright,” Rick says. “Obviously this isn’t gonna work.”

“Dumbass plan to begin with,” Daryl grumbles, pulling out his pack of smokes.

“Yeah?” Rosita stands. “Well, I didn’t hear your input during the discussion.”

“Anyone with half a brain can see that the plan is a dud,” Daryl spits maliciously, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Ain’t got time to debate this crap. We find the guns secretly, no fuckin’ distractions or detours. Just a small group, they get in and out no worries.”

“I think we should listen to Daryl,” Paul says. “It doesn’t make sense to complicate things. We send out a small group to retrieve the guns.”

“That brings us right back to the beginning though,” Maggie answers. “What if they get captured? Or stuck out there? We cannot guarantee they will come back safely because they will be out so far.”

“I agree with Maggie,” Rosita adds. “I think a small distraction would help us go the distance. We could find another compound.”

“We need to find something,” Michonne says desperately. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“There ain’t nothin’ out there anyway,” Daryl gunts. “All the resources would be in the mainlands, that’s where most guns are sold. It don’t make any sense to be runnin’ ‘round near the sea.”

“Of course you wouldn’t want to look for weapons,” Rosita growls. “That would mean standing an actually chance against your _husband_.”

Daryl grits his teeth, shoving his cigarette into his mouth before he spits out a nasty reply.

“There’s no need for that,” Maggie cuts her eye at Rosita. “We can’t be at each other’s throats. We gotta stick together or we will all fall.”

“She’s right,” Rick replies. “This plan isn’t feasible. We need to stick close to home, try scoutin’ the remainin’ areas and see what happens next.”

“But we can make it work,” Rosita persists. “Let me lead a small group of people, we can cause a distraction at the compound and then send out a group of people to scout near the sea.”

“Give it a fuckin’ rest,” Daryl mumbles, by now he is so done with this. “It ain’t gonna work.”

Rosita glares at him. “I got a better idea, why don’t we just give _you_ back to Negan so we won’t be risking our lives for nothing?”

Daryl blows smoke in her direction. “Is that all ya got _girl_?”

“Fuck you.”

“Enough,” Rick barks. “Let’s call it a night.”

They all disperse, Rosita shooting him a lasting glower before leaving the Barrington House. Daryl doesn’t bother to glance at her, things have been tense since she found out he was married to Negan.

Abraham and Glenn’s death is still very fresh.

Hell, Maggie won’t even look at him on good days. They are messed up and his attitude isn’t making things any better. Daryl wishes he could get them to understand how Negan operates, the man was a strategist, he has moves and countermoves.

Rick stares at him, ocean eyes filled with inquisition before hardening into something much worse, the distrust is there, simmering before the surface of those stormy waters.

^

Being a soldier isn’t so bad.

Daryl likes taking orders, talking to Simon about the ins and outs of the trade. The men begin to warm up to him, they joke and laugh, mostly regarding him as Negan’s prodigy.

Of course when he does visit, Negan hides him away in his office. Most of the time he’s face down, ass up, forehead pressing against the desk table as Negan rams his cock viciously into him.

Those days are the best.

Daryl looks forward to walking out of the office afterwards, clothes rumpled, hair askew, but the men looking at him like he’s worth something. Negan is like a God to them, they bow and scrape to him, clinging onto his every word.

By the time he is sixteen he can fire six kinds of automatic weapons. Negan has a preference for AK47, ArmaLite AR-18, Barrett REC7 and lastly his favorite M16 rifles. His training was vigorous, he spent days and sometimes even weeks at the warehouse training with the men, learning the ins and outs of the drug trade business.

Negan was a stickler for the details.

They went hunting religiously, mostly in the summer and fall to hunt bucks. Daryl loves hunting, they would spend hours getting lost in the forest with nothing but a man-made bow and a small knife.

At school he excelled, acing all of his exams and even making the honour role.

Daryl contemplated going to college to study geography or archaeology because he enjoyed it so much. When he told Negan all he did was smile and laugh.  _Sure kid_ , he said. _You can do anything_.

On this particular night he was hanging out with the guys.

They were all in the basement, playing darts and pool while country music blares in the background. Daryl is caught up in a conversation with Simon, he always has the best stories to tell about being a mortgage broker.

He knew that it was Simon’s cover job during the day, while he sold drugs at night.

Unlike Negan who retired from being a car salesman to sell drugs full-time. Daryl found himself enthralled by the stories, each one more engaging than the last. He grew to like Simon and depend on him as Negan did.

“Girls are here!” Someone belts and then immediately afterwards scantily clad woman are waltzing into the basement.

The men cheer and swarm them, while he hangs back near the pool table. Daryl has never been interested in girls and he does get the occasional look when he doesn’t participate but they just don’t do anything for him.

He isn’t a _fag_ , he just doesn’t like woman.

Nick grabs a cue stick and mentions that they play. The men hoot and holler as the woman dance around, stripping off their clothes and/or clinging to two men at a time.

Daryl drinks his scotch slowly, enjoying the light buzz and the smell of smoke and conversation. When he sinks three balls he grins triumphantly.

“Damn,” Nick says impressed. “That’s pretty good. I reckon you’ll be kickin’ all our asses soon enough.”

Daryl ducks his head at the compliment, then his eyes sweep the room for Negan. A moment or two passes and he doesn’t see him.

“Where’s Negan?”

Nick scoffs. “I donno, probably gettin’ his dick sucked somewhere.”

The words twist like a hot iron in his gut.

Even though Nick said it flippantly Daryl can’t help but feel hurt by them. Nick was new to the group, maybe he didn’t know Negan had eyes for only him.

“I’ll be right back,” Daryl mumbles, suddenly eager to find him.

He runs up the stairs quickly, checking the kitchen first, then the outside terrace. He asks several people if they have seen Negan and  they all come up empty.

By the time he goes upstairs he’s exasperated that he had to search the whole damn house for one person. When he reaches the master bedroom he throws the door open and instantly recoils from the sight.

Negan is there, pants down thrusting enthusiastically inside a woman.

They both look up from the commotion, startled and confused. Daryl takes in the sight, his eyes stinging and his heart throbbing viciously.

 _Nobody loves him, nobody cares_.

He pivots quickly, tears falling from his eyes, face flaming red as he tries to escape this horrible place. There is a loud sound behind him, followed by heavy uncoordinated footsteps.

A hand yanks him backwards, pressing him hard into the wall.

“Daryl fuck ‘m sorry,” Negan’s breathe is foul.

The stench alone makes him want to vomit. Daryl struggles adamantly, shoving Negan off and trying to get away, but the man is like a damn octopus. Negan grabs him roughly, holding him in place so he can’t get away.

Daryl weeps openly.

 _God_ —he would do anything for Negan, anything. The pain in his chest is too great, the hurt is far too insurmountable to fathom.

“’M sorry,” Negan slurs. “Daryl look at me. M’ sorry it means nothing. It’s nothing. Look at me I’m fuckin’ _wrecked_ ,” Negan chuckles, staggering a little. “Please, m’ sorry.”

Negan is dishevelled, clothing askew, shirt rumpled and hair sticking up in all directions.

“You’re the only one for me. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

Negan’s hand moves around his neck, constricting his air supply. His large thumbs press against his pulse. “You’re mine.”

“Why…” His voice breaks as words fail him.

“It’s nothing,” Negan responds slovenly. “‘M sorry, sometimes a man doesn’t have control over these things. You’ll understand when you’re older. Look at me, hey, come on now.”

Daryl reluctantly looks up.

“Say you believe me,” Negan smiles. “I’m a piece of shit, I know. ‘M drunk off my fuckin’ ass, but you are the only one I want. Okay? Say okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Negan hugs him. “You’re mine. Nobody is taking you away from me.”

Daryl ignores the fact that Negan still has his dick out, wet and aching, glistening with cunt. He hugs him back because in the end, Negan is all he has.

“You believe me right?” Negan begs.

“Yes, I do.”

~^~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *O
> 
> Thanks to Iloveyousunshine for editing this chapter.
> 
> thoughts?


	6. They forge a blade...

~^~

_Dismantle the Sun_

_~^~_

A single bronze leaf pirouettes down with the breeze.

It spun in the air, swirling and swaying, twisting before landing on the ground. Daryl could easily pick it up and crush the delicate leaf with his hands.

However, something within told him to leave it be, the leaf belongs there, decaying and obscure as it was, reminding him of summer days gone.

Daryl walks through the wheatgrass, the crisp wind blows against his thin leather jacket making it flap open. He strides as if he is on a cloud, using the tip of his toes to be as quiet as possible.

He checks several snares, snatching the stranded cottontails, breaking their necks and stuffing them into his pack. Since it’s mating season they are much easier to catch, but it won’t last come winter time.

The sun warms his face and neck as he walks the treeline. He can hear the people from the Hilltop wandering around behind the fences, children’s laughter carries on the air.

Daryl stalks around aimlessly for a while.

The group put the stupid plan to a vote, nine for and seven against. Long story short, they were going to cause a diversion, then send a small group to the coast to look for weapons.

It’s the dumbest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

However, Rick clearly has a hard-on for causing trouble for Negan, even if it means all the backlash will come on them. Daryl knows the plan will go belly up.

There is absolutely no doubt about that. They don’t have the resources to successfully pull it off and they’ll just end up getting more of their people killed.

Daryl sighs staring at the horizon.

The stroll back to the Hilltop is short since Rick doesn’t want him going hunting anymore. As he approaches the gates open, the second he walks through he can tell that there is something wrong.

There is a large group of people standing around their cars, a loud murmuring amongst the group. Daryl inches forward, gently weaving through the throngs of people.

Rick is kneeling beside one of the cars, sticking his long fingers between a slit in the tires. The car itself looks fine, but upon closer inspection, Daryl can see that the tire is flat.

Someone slashed their tires.

Daryl looks around, finally noticing that all their cars are flat and the tire itself is practically shredded. Whoever did this knew they were planning a run. Something akin to fear twists in his stomach, this was a _warning_.

Everyone suddenly starts talking at once, a slight hysteria breaks out amongst the group. _How did they get in? Who tipped them off?_ A few people shout.  

Rick stands abruptly, his eyes like thunder.

Maggie intervenes, quietly telling everyone to go back home and stay there until they can figure something out. The Hilltop groups dispersed, but the council lingers barking quietly to each other.

As usual, he hangs off to the side, eyes scanning the area. This was clearly an inside job, somebody knew they were going on a run, somebody knew they were planning to get weapons.

There were wolves amongst the sheep.

“Daryl.”

He snaps his head up, startled when his name is called.

Rick is glaring at him, fury and rage etched into the lines of his handsome face. Those eyes are glaciers, razor sharp as they penetrate his soul.

“What do ya think ‘bout this?”

Daryl narrows his eyes, he knows what Rick is really asking, he can practically _hear_ the accusation in his voice. ‘Bout what?”

“Our tires being slashed.”

“It’s an _unfortunate_ turn of events,” Daryl says sarcastically.

“Where were you?”

“What?”

“Where were you?”

“Checkin’ the snares.”

“Is that right?” Rick barks, stepping forward with his eyes blazing.

Things were turning south quickly.

Daryl knows how this looks, he was the only one out of the group to openly object to their plan and now their only mode of transportation was destroyed. Whoever did this knew that, it’s all so fucking convenient that it happened now.

However, he can see the distrust there, simmering before the surface. The way the group gazes at him, almost as if they expect him to betray them. What would he gain by doing that?

“If ya got somethin’ to say fuckin’ say it. Stop pussy-footin’ around.” Daryl challenges, his own temper flaring.

“He was checkin’ the snares,” Morgan chimes in. “I saw him out there while I was on watch.”

The situation diffuses for a moment.

“Blaming each other isn’t going to get us any closer to finding out who did this,” Ezekiel says calmly. “I saw Daryl leave earlier, plus he has rabbits sticking out of his pack. Let’s move on—”

Daryl privots, storming away angrily.

After everything he’s done they still don’t trust him? _Christ_ —he fucking saved their lives twice over! When they were starving after they left the farm? Or trying to take the prison? He's been fighting along-side them since the beginning. 

Hell, he fought his own brother just to make his way back to them.

“Rick let him go,” Michonne says in the background. “Just let him go.”  

^

The rest is rust and stardust.

Daryl cries for a long time, clutching his pillow as the party still rages downstairs. Negan is passed out beside him, snoring loudly. They are both naked, Daryl is raw and hurting from how rough Negan was.

He didn’t want to sleep with Negan.

Not after seeing him balls deep inside another woman. However, the pain in his heart could not be quenched, the wound of betrayal had been too deep.

He needed something, any kind of assurance that he wasn’t alone.

And so, when Negan pushed and pulled, yanking at his pants and belt buckle Daryl didn’t protest. The feeling of Negan’s marble body rutting against him and the deep urgency of his blistering kisses made it harder to resist.

Negan stroked his cock while fingering his pink puckered hole with a steady vengeance.

Eventually, his cries turned silent and his breath hitched in pleasure. Then he came with such blinding explosions that he nearly crumpled from delirium. Negan went to bed shortly afterward, shedding his shirt and pants, clutching onto Daryl like his life depended on it. At first, he relishes it, the way the strong arms hold onto so tightly, then after a while, the events of what happened came back.

The images of Negan fucking that woman came blundering into his mind. Daryl was disgusted, the pain from before intensifies, the duplicity like white-hot iron rods in his belly.

Somehow, somewhere he thought he was the only one. Daryl puffed himself up, placing himself high upon a pedestal while the others hankered beneath him. It was foolish, stupid, so fucking stupid: to think that Negan favored him above all else, to think that Negan thought he was worth something.

He wasn’t worth anything.

 _Christ_ —what the fuck just happened?  

Why would Negan do this to him? Didn’t he understand that Daryl would do anything for him? That he would peel the flesh off his bones, run through fire, slay giants and kill red-eye monsters.

That he would have loved Negan with a burning everlasting fire.

Daryl doesn’t sleep that night, he is wide awake by the time the sun rays peek through the windows. The tears have hardened on his cheek, solidified against his skin, worthlessness, and inadequacy caress his thoughts.

“Daryl,” Negan mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

He remains silent, turning his face away.

“Look at me boy,” Negan grunts, shifting on the bed.

There is a moment of hesitation before he turns on his back slightly.

Negan looks like hell. Or more specifically like shit warmed over which should bring Daryl some satisfaction, but it doesn’t. The man is pale, scruff covering his neck and cheek, gazing at him with bloodshot weary eyes.

“What happened last night….”

The words hang in the air, suspended yet they fill the tiny room almost suffocating them both. Daryl doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to recall how his heart ripped in half as he realized that he was all alone.

Totally and utterly alone, with nothing but his resentment.

The need to hurt Negan just as badly comes on strong, the feeling is swift as he glares down at the man. Perhaps this was how they were supposed to be all along. He shouldn’t be crying like some wimp. So what if Negan likes to fuck other people? That didn’t have to mean anything.

Inside though he knew it meant everything.

“Ya fucked some bitch,” Daryl tries to be indifferent. “So what? Shit happens.”

“You’re upset with me,” Negan states. “That’s understandable.”

“No,” Daryl says sternly. “I ain’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuck off,” Daryl barks.

Negan chuckles richly. “Ya sound pretty angry to me. Listen boy, I understand. I fucked up, I got way too drunk and made a stupid decision.”

 _Why her_? Daryl wants to shout. “Whatever. I ain’t fuckin’ a _fag_.”

Negan’s smile widens. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you have my dick up your ass? What about when you were beggin’ me to fuck you last night?”

Daryl flushes hotly. “Shut up!”

“Or when I finger you so hard you cum for hours?”

“Fuck you.”

Negan crawls towards him on the bed. “If you enjoyed it what does that say about me?”

Daryl frowns deeply. “We ain’t…..you ain’t gay….”

“I’m not?” Negan answers. “I enjoy fucking men up the ass, I like eating ass, I love coming inside them….sounds pretty gay to me.”

“But ya were married before….” Daryl counters.

“Sometimes people can be attracted to both woman and man. There isn’t anything wrong with that. Now, I don’t want to hear that word fag said in my house ever again. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Now…..what happened last night….” Negan touches his hand lightly. “See Daryl woman were put on this earth to serve men…..what you saw was an act of servitude nothing more.”

Daryl swallows thickly. “Ya were kissin’ her….like ya kiss me….”

“That’s just an expression of like,” Negan says. “If I like someone I kiss them to show how much I like them. With you it’s different because you know that I like you best.”

Daryl perks up a little at this. “Even better than Simon?”

“Way better than him.”

“But….why her? Why not just kiss me?”

“Sometimes a man just needs to taste something different. You’ll understand when you’re older. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you less, it just means that I want to try something different. For instance, ya like chocolate ice-cream right?”

Daryl nods eagerly.

“Would ya want to eat it for the rest of your life?”

“No.”

“See?” Negan grins. “Every once in awhile it’s good to try strawberry or vanilla ice-cream.”

“But why—” Does it hurt so much.

Daryl tries very hard to understand, but a large part of him doesn’t. If he was the best then why did Negan need anyone else? Shouldn’t he be enough?

The questions swirl around his head for a moment as Negan waits patiently for him to finish his question. Instead, Daryl clamps his mouth shut, fixing his eyes on the floral pattern comforter.

Negan inches closer, placing a strong hand on his inner thigh. “You can do anythin’ kid, you can have anythin’, be anythin’. I want ya to slay dragons and climb mountains. You deserve the world, Daryl. Never forget that.”

Of course he thaws, melting into a warm puddle. No-one has ever said such nice things to him before. Daryl blushes and smiles, then Negan brings him into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” Daryl responds timidly, his face buried into Negan’s neck.

“You’ll always be mine.”

~^~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ;0
> 
> Thanks to iloveyousunshine for editing this chapter.
> 
> Thoughts?


	7. Over love, over sun, over another

~^~

_ Dismantle the Sun _

_ ~^~ _

Rick is bending over. 

Something that isn’t abnormal, or even extraordinary at all. Rick is surrounded by a group of other men working on repairing the bar that someone set fire to last night. He’s seen Rick bend over hundreds of times, millions, zillions. So many times he’s lost count, but this time it makes his pulse race and his balls ache. 

They aren’t speaking.

In fact they haven’t spoken in days, which is a record all things considering. People in the group notice the tension, they can see it,  how thick and dense it becomes whenever they are around each other.

Rick stubborn above all else.

Especially if he believes he is correct. The bottom line is that there is something rotten in their group, something putrefying amongst them. With a stench so extreme it filled the air. Strange things have been happening around the Hilltop. First the tires being slashed, now one of the barns spontaneously caught fire, right after they began making plans for war. It’s all so  _ coincidental _ . 

Daryl knows someone is working for the Saviors. 

He can understand that most people have logically deduced that. He can also understand why they think it’s him. For starters he isn’t  _ like _ them, he doesn’t join on their discussions, prefering to hang back. 

Daryl rarely ever makes small talk with people from the other groups. More often than not he’s gruff, non-responsive, cuttingly sarcastic or downright mean with his careless southern drawl.

By definition he is an outcast. 

Still despite all that, Rick’s behaviour fucking hurts.

The wars with the Saviours have grown more dangerous. They need to figure out a plan to beat them, to take their lives back. 

“He’s being mullish,” Michonne venture’s beside him. 

Daryl grunts his response going back to cleaning his bow. 

“You should talk to him.”

“And say what?” He nearly barks.

“That he’s a piece of shit for doubting you. For ever doubting you. We all owe you our lives, most of us don’t forget.” 

Daryl stills at that, feeling a blush creep over his face.  _ They still remember _ . “Thanks,” He mumbles shyly. 

“You mean a lot to us. Rick doesn’t want to lose you. He’ll come around, he always does.” 

With that she’s gone, off to give the rest of the men some help. Michonne has always been the backbone of the group. He loves her for it, for her strength and determination. 

No matter how much he loves Rick he will always respect her.

“A messenger from the Saviours!” Someone calls. “Open the gates!” 

People from the Hilltop, Alexandria and the kingdom swarm the gates, all of them pushing and clumping together to get a look at the messager. Daryl lingers back, watching from his seat on the front porch of Paul’s trailer. 

The Saviour is stripped of his weapons, bound with rope and brought to his knees in front of Rick. There is an intense hush that falls over the group, as Maggie, Ezekiel and Gregory all step forward. 

“What do you want?” Rick demands, pointing his gun at the guys head. 

“I’m just delivering a message,” The Saviour says.

“Which is?” 

The Saviour gazes around. “Where is Daryl?” 

All eyes swing to Daryl and he frowns visibly, he’s too far away to see exactly what the man looks like but he can hear him clearly above the crowd.

Rick tenses. “You’re speakin’ to me now.”

“I’m only going to give the message to him.” 

“No, that’s not how it works.”

“Negan decides how it works.” 

“You aren’t speaking to Daryl.” Rick barks.

“Then kill me.” The Saviour responds flippantly. “Except you won’t.” 

The crowd breaks out in a low murmur and Rick turns to Maggie, then to Ezekiel who nods submissively. Daryl stands, perplexed and immediately annoyed, as if he didn’t have enough problems already.  

The crowd parts for him, most of them gazing at him inquisitively. 

As soon as the man comes into view Daryl flushes hotly, a deep blush spreading across his face.  _ Fuck _ —why did Negan have to send him? Out of all people. What the fuck was he supposed to say to him? 

It’s been years since he last saw Nick.

The scar running down the length of his forehead to his cheek looks just as grotesque as it did when he first got it. Daryl remembers that, he remembers how Negan’s face had glistened and gleam at the sound of his screams. 

“It’s been a long time brother,” Nick says loudly. 

Even though they were  _ never _ brothers. What they shared would never be classified as brotherly.

Daryl chooses not to say anything, instead he stands in front of him vacantly. There’s no point getting worked up over this. Or agonizing over why Negan would send  _ him _ of all people.

“I have a message,” Nick presses onwards, not even the slightest bit detoured. “Negan says he’s coming for you, within a fortnight. If you run, they die. If you hide, they die. The whole war can be over if you just come back with us, come back with me.” 

Something horrible twists in his gut and the words fall from his lips before he can stop them. “To be his property again?” He spits vehemently.

“We are all Negan’s property,” Nick says smoothly. “Don’t you remember what it’s like?” 

Of course he does, every damn day.

“Why?” 

“To negotiate,” Nick responds, then turns to Rick. “You can kill me now.”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Daryl hisses, the words flying out of his mouth without any thought. "I mean...he might know somethin' else." 

What a major fuck up. Daryl immediately wants to put his foot into his mouth.  Rick glares at him, furious and unyielding.  

“Lock him up,” Rick jerks his head, some people come to grab Nick and take him away. 

“He’s hiding something,” Rosita sneers. “I knew it. So what, did you fuck this guy too? How many more ex-lovers do we have to worry about?” 

Daryl says nothing, shame and disgrace clouding his features. She isn’t right, but she isn’t wrong either. They won’t understand, none of them will.

“Stop it,” Maggie intervenes. “Negan is comin’. We need to make a plan, we need to find out how to win this war.” 

Rosita snorts. “Why? We should just give him Daryl. That’s what he wants right?”

“She’s right!” Someone shouts from the crowd.

“I’ve got a family! We can’t let this go on. Just give Negan what he wants!” 

Loud angry murmuring breaks out, everyone is moving closer, packing together like Sardines in a tin can. 

Daryl can barely stand it, the looks, the jeers and before he can stop himself he’s turning, striding towards the prisoners cell.

^ 

Eventually he grows up, life goes on. 

It’s been three years since he’s moved in with Negan. Things have changed, time has moved forward, he is no longer the clueless boy from Gainesville.

Daryl has evolved.

Now he commands several  of Negan’s armies, his word is law, carrying almost the same weight as the man himself. He surpassed even Simon, which at first seemed strange, but the men wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Negan is older, lazy in his affection, sometimes he’ll nuzzle against Daryl, kiss his cheek or mouth in front of the men. 

The first time he did it, Daryl nearly went into cardiac arrest. 

So many eyes were watching and he wasn’t sure how they would react to seeing two men kiss. Turns out most of them didn’t give a damn and if they did they were too scared to voice it. 

Negan still fucked woman.

Daryl told himself it didn’t bother him and most of the time it didn’t, unless Negan brought them home which he rarely did these days. 

Until he did.

The first time Daryl saw her he did a double take. She was by far the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. Negan introduced her as Lucy, his starlight and firecracker.

Daryl didn’t understand the reference, nor did he particularly understand why this woman was so damn singular, why she stood out from the rest. She had long dark hair, cascading down her back and deep piercing blue eyes. 

Lucy called him baby-bird, then sneered at Negan for cradle robbing. 

Daryl didn’t care, he already hated the bitch. He hated her on sight. That didn’t stop Negan from bringing her over. She was suddenly everywhere, helping out at the warehouse, joking with the guys, eating his food, sitting in his living room.

Daryl tried to remain quiet, tried to keep his feelings unknown until one day he snapped. 

They were sitting around breakfast. Lucy was there eating his damn cereal and complaining about the lack of nutrients. It was Lucky Charms! It was pure sugar, Daryl wanted to scream.

“You really should look into getting healthier food,” Lucy says. “This is what happens when you leave shopping up to minors. They don’t know anything.” 

Negan grunts, ignoring everything he says and pours himself a bowl. “The kid can eat what he likes, as will I.” 

“Still. We’ve had this conversation nearly a hundreds of times and I think you should watch your health more carefully.” 

“Maybe you should eat at your own damn house.” Daryl muttered.

The table went eerily quiet as both heads turned to stare at him.

“What did you say to me?” Lucy demanded.

“Not cool Daryl.” 

“Why not?” Daryl spat vehemently. “She always fuckin’ here. She should go home or something.” 

“Okay, calm down — ”

“Are you going to let him speak to me like that?” 

“Let’s all just take a deep breathe,” Negan says slowly. “I think you should go without us today.” 

“Gladly,” Lucy gets up and dumps all of her cereal in the sink before slamming the door shut behind her. 

“What’s up buttercup?” Negan probes. 

“She’s a  _ bitch _ .”

“I know.”

“Why is she here? I thought — ” He struggles for a moment. “You promised! You said you wouldn’t have woman at the house.” 

“I lied.” 

The words are said so callously they tear into his heart. Daryl stares at Negan, tears coming to his eyes. “Why?” 

“You’re mine and so is she. I like keeping my valuables around me. It’s something you’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I don’t understand…” Daryl responds sadly. “Why her?”

Negan looks at him frankly. “Because she’s my wife.” 

~^~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Iloveyousunshine for editing this chapter :) 
> 
> Sorry for the late update! 
> 
> Thoughts?


	8. ***IMPORTANT A/N****

Wow.

Where do I begin? The last 365 days have been a total whirlwind.

It's honestly hard to believe it's been a full year since I became a published author. Since that was the one thing I wanted to be since I was 8 years old, I never thought I would be able to achieve that at 26. But- I owe it all to all of you. Thank you, Elvis is now available on Kindle for free! With stunning new characters and an alternate ending.

Many of you don't know this but if it wasn't for all of the continued support, I probably wouldn't have followed through with actually publishing my book. Putting my writing out there was scary... it still is. Two years ago, I took a gamble and posted on AO3 how I was near completion of my very first book I would want to publish. Only a few reacted to the post and I thought to myself, "who is even going to read this thing?"

I questioned my writing and the idea of publishing it for a while. Then as I dove deeper into my novel, I decided to publish the first chapter unedited on my blog to see what would happen. I don't know what I was expecting - well, I do, I was expecting people to not even read it.

So, when so many people reached out saying they wanted to read more, I was in a state of disbelief.

Those of you who have supported me and this story please leave your names and a review on amazon.com. The link will be posted blow.

*******https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07CZZSDRB*******

Please let me know if you would like to join my mailing list to receive updates about the next story. 

 

 


	9. You know it hurt me

~^~

_ Dismantle the Sun _

_ ~^~ _

“Why are you here?” Daryl demands hotly, the people from the Hilltop stare at him in bewilderment as they try to secure the prisoner. 

They build a cage in one of the farmhouses. It’s quaint, small, with study bars meant to keep their prisoners from escaping. Nick is being placed in a tiny cell, a few men are making sure he is untied before standing guard. 

Nick waits for a moment, rubbing his hands before leaning casually against the cell bars.

“You know why I’m here.” 

Daryl feels his pulse race. “What other messages did he send?” 

Nick shrugs. “You know the usual….” 

Suddenly he’s frustrated. So fucking exasperated at the situation. Of being made a laughing stock to his family, of them ridiculing him and doubting that he cares about them, that he’s  _ always _ fucking cared. 

The lies, the distrust, the everything. Daryl hates it all and wants it to stop.

Most of all he hates how fucking  _ curious _ he is. How much he wants to know why Negan is still chasing him. After years of being married and then separated (not legally) — but still dammit! 

“Tell me.” Daryl grunts. 

Nick grins. “You better watch yourself. Or someone might think you still have feelings for your husband. You never could sign those divorce papers.”

“That’s beside the point,” Daryl responds curtly. “What else did the bastard have to say?”  

“That he still loves you.” 

Daryl nearly chokes, those simple words turn his guts outside in and inside out. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? 

Of course, he could imagine Negan, rutting heavily on top of him, fucking wildly, panting like a madman, _ I love you, I own you _ , barked in his ear during the throngs of passion. 

Negan’s love was a horrible thing, too dark, too consuming, like being swallowed in a deep dark black hole. 

“You love him too,” Nick smiles smugly. “This war can end just as quickly as it began.” 

The war within started, light and dark, night and day, Daryl struggles visibly as he tries to process the information he was just given. 

All wars can end, except the one within.

Negan still loves him? How? Why? When? Better yet, why the fuck does he care? By all accounts, he shouldn’t care. Not for the man that nearly beat him to death for befriending a man, or who was so possessive and jealous it nearly destroyed them both.

“How can he…” Daryl shudders thinking about the answer. 

The barn doors open and Rick is walking in with Morgan, Gregory, and Ezekiel, all of them look royally pissed. 

“He’s coming,” Nick whispers with a sudden urgency. “Run.”

“When?”

“Two days,” Nick says.

“Fuck,” Daryl hisses, then turns sharply to look at the others.

“What’s happening?” Rick struts over, hands on his hips, eyes sharp. 

Daryl tells him everything.  

~

The crushing feeling in his chest doesn’t stop.

His entire body feels like mincemeat, caught in a powerful grinder. There is a moment where tears prick his eyes and his heart flails open, blood erupting from his chest.

Daryl is plummeting down, down, down. “You’re wife?”

Negan stares at him, then grins wickedly. “Ex-wife.”

“What?”

Negan laughs. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya Dixon.” 

Time suspends for a second until he realizes that it was all some kind of fucked up joke. Negan did that sometimes, made his world stop and his eyes well with tears, all for the sake of comedy. 

“So you aren’t…”

“Nope,” Negan says lazily. “She just needs a place to stay. Got kicked out of her old place anyways.” 

“You fuckin’ asshole.” Daryl spits.

Negan shrugs. “You already knew I was. Hurry up, we’re going to be late.” 

Although a part of him is pissed off, another part is much more relieved than anything else. 

“Do we have time for….” Daryl stops himself, the blush covering his whole face and neck. 

Negan’s eyes turn dark. “Time for what?”

“Nothing,” Daryl says too quickly.

Negan leans close, his hot breath washing over Daryl’s face. “We always have time.” 

The warmth of Negan’s body and his declaration made Daryl feel a renewed kind of hope. The kind that silly childish dream, only to be awakened to a world by being bludgeoned over the head with reality. 

At best was a child, at worst a demon. 

Daryl felt his balls coil, his breath shorten into gasps as Negan slithers towards him. The oddity of it, strong hands grip his thighs and open them, before sliding skillfully between them.

He blushes fiercely, still very much uncomfortable with how bold Negan is sometimes. 

“Is this what you want? Do you want me to fuck you hard and fast?” Negan growls deep in his ear.

That depends on  _ how _ hard and how fast.

Sometimes he loves it, being pushed roughly against the nearest table and being taken so rapturously he comes within minutes. 

Other times it’s a punishment, much like the first time, Negan is rough and his hands using brutish force.

During those times he barely comes, doesn’t even get hard. The pain is far too magnified to derive any sort of pleasure. It’s almost as if Negan is trying to crawl within him and scrap out his insides. 

Now, he wants something else, something more, which seems unimaginable to a man like Negan. And since he was ignorant to the ways of men or how a proper relationship worked 

“Tell me you don’t want my cock. Say it!” Negan snarls, gripping his neck tightly in his large hands. “I want to hear it. Every sound, every syllable belongs to me.” 

“Yes,” Daryl says, his voice coming out in pants.

Then Negan laps savagely at his neck, sucking and biting the skin so hard it hurts. His hands move on impulse, plunging between Daryl’s thighs and massaging his cock through his jeans.

“Negan,” Daryl sighs, his back arching. “I want it...I just want your heart along with it.”

Negan stills immediately.

“You mean that?” 

“Yes,” Daryl says meekly. “I love you.” 

Negan chuckles. “You’re sixteen kid. You don’t know a thing about love.”

“I ain’t no damn kid,” Daryl snaps. “And I know more ‘bout love than ya think.”

“Is that right?”

“Damn straight.”

“You don’t want to love someone like me Daryl,” Negan responds. “I’m not a good person. I won’t treat you right, not in the way you're supposed to be at least. I’m shit at the whole  _ relationship _ thing anyways.” 

“Not with me, ya won’t be,” Daryl answers with such conviction. “Together we’ll be strong. You won’t need anyone else except me.” 

Perhaps it was the loneliness. Or the fact that Daryl never really had any family besides Merle who left several years ago, that made it able to him to make such a declarative statement. 

But with the blood pumping to his cock and Negan’s face surrounding his Daryl could think of nothing else. 

“Do you realize what you are asking? Once I commit I really and truly fucking commit. I’ll never let you go, ever. You’ll be mine for eternity do you understand?”

Daryl relishes the thought, it was so much better than being alone. In his young mind, this was perfectly acceptable. 

“Yes.” 

~^~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see....
> 
> Sorry about the late update. 
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
